


Bob to the Rescue

by ladydragon76



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-08-18
Packaged: 2018-02-13 13:52:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2153124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydragon76/pseuds/ladydragon76
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary:</b> By Bob’s estimates Sunstreaker’s doing well with their new swarm.  The others like being around him.  They have plentiful fuel and a comfortable little den all to themselves.  So why’s he so unhappy?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **‘Verse:** IDW  
>  **Series:** None  
>  **Rating:** PG  
>  **Characters:** Bob, Sunstreaker, _Lost Light_ crew  
>  **Warnings:** None, unless you want to count some overbearing flirting.  
>  **Notes:** Eee! I had a little too much fun with this one. Anon asked me to write Bob ‘being an adorable cockblocker on Sunstreaker's behalf'. Thank you, Anon!

_Tonk_ went Bob’s aft on the tiled floor of the water room. Medial optics blinked up at Sunstreaker and were immediately followed by the lateral set. He tipped his helm to one side, then the other, listening to his master growl and grumble again. He was very displeased, though Bob didn’t know why.

When it first started happening, when they had first joined the new swarm, Bob had been confused and distressed. He was on his _best_ behavior, but Sunstreaker growled and stomped, and hissed angry words all the time. Bob had spent a lot of time under the sleeping shelf in their den in self-imposed punishment to show his remorse for whatever it was that he was doing so wrong.

However, that only seemed to aggravate Sunstreaker more. He would fuss and huff and call Bob’s name until he came out, field radiating frustration and sadness.

The mixed messages left Bob at a complete loss. The anger that bled off Sunstreaker did not match up with the demands for cuddles and snuggles. Bob understood the sadness a little. It had been a part of Sunstreaker ever since Bob found him and was familiar, if still troubling, especially because now it was directed _at_ him.

But _why_? What was Bob doing that made Sunstreaker sad?

There came a point where Bob was just so confused and upset that he simply fell back on his instincts and gave up trying to anticipate what was wanted from him. He quit trying to figure out what he was doing wrong, and turned all his focus on Sunstreaker.

All of it.

He slept _on_ Sunstreaker, protecting him bodily even though they were in their den. He laid right on Sunstreaker’s feet whenever he was sitting somewhere. He sat right beside him in the food room, attentive and watchful. Every chance he got, Bob would try to engage his poor master in play. Anything could become a toy, and often did. When other mechs would come around, Bob would greet them calmly, showing proper respect to the other swarm members even if they smelled like they would make a good toy too. He thought it was good how many made a point to approach them. They were not outcasts, in fact, if nothing else they even appeared to have some status with how many would come to jabber at Sunstreaker.

But his poor master was still so unhappy and angry.

Sunstreaker heaved a sigh, rubbing the cloth over his forearm one last time, then slumped forward with his elbows braced on his knees. Bob tipped his helm to the other side, antennae angling forward. He was listening. He’d heard everything Sunstreaker had said even if most of it made no sense at all to him.

“I guess this’ll have to do.” Sunstreaker reached out, hand going to the top of Bob’s helm to pat. His thumb rubbed just right along the base of an antenna, and Bob purred, pushing his head harder into that golden hand. 

A soft scraping noise echoed in the otherwise quiet room as Bob’s aft began to waggle back and forth.

Sunstreaker chuckled, and stood. “Come on, bug. Let’s see if we can get back to our quarters without more of those stupid fraggers smearing my finish. Handsy bastards,” he muttered as Bob trailed after him.

~ | ~

Bob towed Sunstreaker down the corridor, face pushed right to the ground. That was a really interesting smell he’d discovered, and he wanted to know where it was coming from. Plus it was just good to be out. They had both been stuck in their den for a few days, and he didn’t like the restlessness that buzzed through his master’s energy field by the end of their confinement.

“Aw, slag,” Sunstreaker growled, voice very soft.

Bob was brought up short by the tow cable when Sunstreaker stopped, and he chuffed at his master in protest. He _leaned_ forward, pulling with a steady pressure.

“Bob,” his master hissed, and gave the line a sharp tug. “Come on quick before they-”

“There he is!”

“Sunstreaker!”

Bob looked down the hall, then cocked his helm to the side, watching as a few swarm members approached. He backed up and planted his aft next to Sunstreaker, wanting to comfort his master and soothe the sudden flare of tension. Frustration and irritation radiated from Sunstreaker’s energy field before everything clamped in tight. Bob whined ever so quietly. He hated when Sunstreaker did that.

“Hey,” Sunstreaker said, a hand going to Bob’s helm, fingers scratching lightly at an antenna base.

“Hey, yourself,” the mech with green plating replied in a purr.

“We were just heading to Swerve’s,” the spiky yellow one added. He stepped close to Sunstreaker, hand coming up to pet his shoulder and arm.

Bob’s helm tipped the other way. What was _that_? He stretched out his neck to sniff, then snorted hard in an attempt to get the scent out of his olfactory sensors. The blue one smelled weird. Nothing like that interesting smell, just unpleasant and weird.

“You should totally join us,” Stinky said.

Sunstreaker’s plating clamped down even tighter, and his weight shifted back. Like he was trying to lean out of range of the mechs, but also stopping himself from doing so. Bob squinted, watching, his helm tipping the other way. His antennae twitched, itching from the vibrations he was picking up. Why would his master not want to pull away, but want to pull away? That didn’t make much sense, unless…

Sunstreaker did not want to be an outcast again, but these members were clearly beneath him if he didn’t like them. Right?

That had to be where the frustration was coming from. Poor master. He didn’t want these swarm members so close to him, but he couldn’t rebuff them properly himself. Bob wasn’t sure why, but he could help.

Without making a sound of warning, Bob launched down the hall.

“Gah! Bob!”

Sunstreaker stumbled off balance, and Bob used that to tow him along. He shoved his face to the floor, found that interesting smell again, and with single-minded determination to get his master away from those mechs, plowed after it.

“ _Bob_!”

Laughter sounded behind them, but Bob didn’t stop. His claws scraped and scrabbled over the decking, but for all his shock and surprise, Sunstreaker didn’t chide him, so Bob didn’t stop.

“Next time then,” Spiky called.

Sunstreaker yelped Bob’s name again as he was dragged around a corner and away from the mechs he didn’t want close to him.

Bob was pleased with himself. This he could do. He would make Sunstreaker happy again.

~ | ~

“Rrrrrrrr…” Bob purred in utter bliss. “Rrrrrrrrr rrrrrrrrrr…”

Sunstreaker was smiling, field pulsing relaxation and contentment as his fingers worked all around Bob’s helm and neck. His antennae drooped to either side, all four optics squeezed shut, and his purr rumbling loud enough to vibrate his plating.

“Daffy bug,” Sunstreaker chuckled, and scratched just right under Bob’s chin. “Such a good boy.”

Bob’s optics peeped open at the ‘good boy’, antennae angling forward as pleasure glowed through his spark. Yes, he was a good boy, and he knew how to take care of his master very well. This part of their home didn’t have as many smells, though Bob sure didn’t know why. It was nice and dimly lit, big and round, and the walls were interesting with all those colors rushing by. It was quiet, and best of all, Sunstreaker was-

“Is this where you’ve been hiding?”

Hands froze and tightened. Plating clamped tight. The smile was gone, just… gone.

“Not hiding,” Sunstreaker said to the red and grey mech. “Playing with Bob.”

Bob, whose optics had narrowed and purr locked up as tightly as Sunstreaker’s plating. How, he wondered, would that mech that ruined his perfect day taste?

No, no. Bob was a good boy, and Sunstreaker would be unhappy if he bit anyone he wasn’t ordered to. He grumbled and huffed as he was pushed away, but moved so Sunstreaker could stand up.

The mech strode toward them, and Bob could feel the irritation growing and growing in Sunstreaker’s energy field with each step. Antennae twitched, then flattened back. The mech was smiling, but he had to be planning _something_ if Bob’s master was so unhappy to see him.

“Whatever the reason, I’m glad I found you,” Maybe Tasty said. “You glow up here among the stars. Gorgeous.”

Sunstreaker’s plating was so tight, he would probably creak if he moved, but Bob was at a loss. What could he do? He needed to get Sunstreaker out of here, away, but that other mech might just follow.

Yellow optics darted all over the round room, searching for a solution. Bob’s antennae whipped forward when he spotted that solution. There was his toy. He’d flopped over Sunstreaker instead of chasing after it again, and it was still where it’d landed.

Right past Maybe Tasty.

Bob launched into motion.

“Bob!”

“Holy-!”

 _ **CLANG!**_ went the mech as Bob tore past him and took out his legs.

“Ow! Fragging Pits! What the slag was that about?!”

“I’m sorry,” Sunstreaker said.

Bob skidded to a halt, snatched up the pipe with his minor claws, then charged back toward Sunstreaker. No! Don’t touch! He chittered and chirped, footfalls thundering as he galloped back. He _almost_ crashed into Sunstreaker but managed to stop himself just in time.

“Crazy bug, what are you doing?” Sunstreaker asked.

Bob presented the pipe he’d turned into a toy, chirring, aft end wagging. Play! Hurry, they could play and just get away from this mech.

“Heh. Guess your pet wants to play, huh?”

“Yeah. Ok, Bob. Give me the pipe, I’ll throw it for you.”

Bob snorted and danced back as Sunstreaker reached for the toy. Nope. No, definitely not. His master was way too close to the mech.

“Bob!” Sunstreaker stomped a few steps closer to Bob and stuck out his hand demandingly. “Drop it.”

Bob obeyed, dropping the pipe, then just as Sunstreaker crouched to pick it up, he pounced it, and scuttled away.

“Bob.” Oh that was a warning tone, but… No, this was important. He had to help his master. His irritation at Bob would fade pretty quickly, but so long as he was around this mech he would be tense and unhappy. “Goofy slagger, what are you doing?”

Ah! That was almost a laugh! Bob waved the toy at Sunstreaker. See what he had? Look, he was just going to lay it right there on the floor and slo-o-owly back away. Antennae waggled.

“He’s… really funny.”

“Yeah.”

Sunstreaker crept forward, knees bent, but just as he was within range, Bob jumped forward and grabbed it. He ran in a wide arc, Maybe Tasty yelping and dodging aside, and look at that, farther away from Sunstreaker.

“Bob, what are you doing?” Sunstreaker made a grab at Bob, but missed.

Chuffing, aft wagging back and forth hard enough to shift Bob’s weight, he backed toward the door.

“Come here, bug. Come on.”

Sorry, master, not this time. Bob cut and ran, heading straight for the door.

“Bob! No!” Sunstreaker pounded after Bob, leaving Maybe Tasty all alone in the round color-streaked room.

~ | ~

“How do you keep your finish so glossy?” asked a mech whose field was oozing his rut.

Bob’s antennae were flattened straight back, and he knew that if Sunstreaker had any, his would be too.

“Bob,” Swerve called. “Look what I got, Bob.”

Yellow optics shifted briefly to Swerve, then back to Sunstreaker’s tense frame. Bob didn’t understand why they were still here, but then he was rather tired of being driven off by these swarm members that were too stupid to realize that his master was not in a mating cycle and did not want them touching him. Harmless touches, but they _obviously_ bothered Sunstreaker. Mechs couldn’t see that, they were too stupid to be bred anyway in Bob’s opinion.

“Here, Bob. Bob.”

Bob glanced at Swerve again, and this time noticed the treat. His antennae twitched, but no, Sunstreaker needed him.

“Just polish.” Sunstreaker stepped sideways, but Oozy followed. His hand stroked down the side of Sunstreaker’s chest, and Bob almost growled.

“Aw com’on, Bob. I have a treat for you~”

Swerve was ok, Bob thought. He always gave everyone food and treats, but Sunstreaker-

Loud laughter cut in on Bob’s thoughts, and he really noticed Whirl. Whirl who was just behind Oozy and between Bob and the treat. Whirl that yelled a lot. Whirl that asserted his dominance over others with varying degrees of success rather often.

“Bob~”

Yes. Treats were good. Bob definitely wanted that treat. He waited a moment, then darted forward, throwing his weight sideways into the back of Blue-with-Wings’ knee as he passed him. Blue-with-Wings bumped Whirl. Whirl slammed his energon dish on the counter.

“Hey, slagger! I’m drinkin’ here!”

 _Clank_!

“Ow! What’d you hit me for? Skids is the one that pushed you.”

“Uh oh,” Swerve said, straightening and backing up. Bob followed, mouth chasing that treat.

“Yeah, well it’s your ugly face I see,” Whirl shouted.

“Least I have a face!”

“Bob!” Sunstreaker yelped, and dove out of the way as Whirl threw himself at Oozy.

“Stop! No fighting in my bar!”

The treat was dropped and Bob happily snatched it up before dashing over to Sunstreaker.

“Come on, bug. Frag me already. Crazy slaggers.” Sunstreaker clipped the tow cable to Bob’s collar and hurried to the door.

Bob trotted at his side. That didn’t work quite right since they were still leaving the food room instead of enjoying their time with the members of the swarm that didn’t bother his master, but at least Oozy wasn’t touching Sunstreaker anymore.

~ | ~

Again, Bob thought. They’d been having so much fun playing fetch, then these two mechs showed up and Sunstreaker went all tense and unhappy. Bob glanced down at the toy. It would have to do.

“Ouch! Bob, that’s my frelling foot.” Sunstreaker bent down and picked up the wadded up bundle of wiring Bob had found and turned into a ball.

Bob planted his aft and stared up at his master with wide optics. He wanted to play. He just wanted to play. Master, won’t you play with me? He whimpered, antennae drooping a little to either side of his helm.

“Never thought an insecticon could be cute,” said one of the mechs. The other laughed.

“Primus.” Sunstreaker turned, body shifting into a throwing position.

Bob hopped to his feet, ran in a tight circle, chuffed and wiggled.

A smile came back to Sunstreaker’s face, and he whipped the ball down the corridor. “Go get it, boy!”

Bob watched it fly, then planted his aft on the floor and stared up at Sunstreaker.

“What? Go get it, ya daffy bug. Fetch.”

Bob cocked his helm to the side.

“Bob. Get the ball.”

His helm rocked to the other side.

Sunstreaker sighed as the other two mechs laughed.

“I think he needs more training,” one of them said.

“Shut up,” Sunstreaker muttered, then started walking toward the ball.

Bob stepped into the path of the mechs as they made to follow, antennae flattening back and a low, _very_ quiet growl rumbled out. Two sets of blue optics went wide, but Bob didn’t stay to enjoy their sudden fear. He dashed after Sunstreaker, bounding past him to pounce the ball. Somehow, Bob had _no_ idea how, it shot out from under him and bounced into a different hall. He of course had to chase it. Oh no! It escaped again.

“Goofy thing,” Sunstreaker said, shaking his helm, but he was smiling at Bob’s antics once again.

~ | ~

Bob liked the play room. This was a fun place where the swarm would wrestle and show off their attack prowess to one another. Sometimes Sunstreaker still worked Bob, just like when they were hunting so long ago, but for the most part Bob was happy to run and play. He batted his toy across the floor, chasing and pouncing it as it bounced and tumbled here and there.

Instinct, or maybe the way his antennae began to itch, made Bob look up for Sunstreaker.

Oh no, it was Oozy _and_ Stinky. They were both walking toward Sunstreaker. Stinky was lifting his hand, reaching.

Bob looked around frantically. He was too far away, they were going to touch his master! Oh, he was bad. A bad, bad boy. He shouldn’t have gone so far, but the play room was always so fun and safe before.

His optics landed on Fort Max. Bob liked him. He was quiet and didn’t touch Sunstreaker. He was also really big and headed right past Bob.

Oh this was going to hurt.

Bob hunkered down, waiting, watching, then stuck his foot out.

The sharp, high sound of his screech silenced the room.

“Oh, Primus! I’m so sorry!” Fort Max dropped to his knees beside Bob, huge hands incredibly gentle as he petted Bob’s back.

Bob focused through the pain, and sighed in relief as Sunstreaker shoved past Oozy and Stinky and pelted across the play room to him.

“Bob! What happened?!”

“I’m sorry,” Fort Max said again. “I wasn’t watching, I’m so sorry. I stepped right on his hind foot I think.”

Bob whimpered as pain rushed up his leg from the light touch of Fort Max’s finger.

“Oh, Primus, I’m really sorry.”

Sunstreaker heaved a sigh, and pushed his arms under Bob’s body. “I know you didn’t do it on purpose.”

“I’ll carry him to medical?”

“I got him,” Sunstreaker said, and lifted Bob.

Bob keened, but stretched his helm toward Fort Max. Poor Fort Max, he was a good swarm member. Bob felt just awful, but he’d saved Sunstreaker, and that was more important than anything else.

“I’ll watch for you better,” Fort Max said as he leaned down and rubbed Bob’s helm. “I promise.”

“It’s ok, Max. Come on, bug. Let’s go see if Ratchet can fix that dent.”

~ | ~

“Hello, Bob,” Rung said, and leaned over from his chair to rub the bases of Bob’s antennae.

Bob purred and pushed up into the nice hands.

“How have you been?” Rung asked.

Bob chirred, but glanced over at Sunstreaker.

“That’s good. And yes, your master looks well too.”

Bob chirped, and Rung smiled as he sat back up. Bob gave Sunstreaker another glance. He had been careful to stay close to his master since the day in the play room. Poor Fort Max still looked sad every time Bob saw him, and despite his efforts, the mech was still upset over hurting him.

“Would you like a treat?” Rung asked, drawing Bob’s attention.

Treat? Yes, treats were very good.

Rung smiled as Bob planted his aft solidly on the floor. It wiggled anyway, but that only seemed to amuse Rung more.

“Will you stand for it?” Rung held the treat out over Bob’s head and up out of reach.

Stand? Oh, Bob thought, _Stand_.

He eased himself up onto his hind legs, neck stretching out and facial guards parting so he could take the treat with his mouth.

“Hey there, gorgeous!”

Bob dropped back to all fours, the treat melting, but ignored in his mouth as he whipped around. He knew that voice, and he could practically feel the way Sunstreaker’s plating tightened and his field sucked in.

“Bob?” Rung asked, his hand gentle on Bob’s helm.

Quick! Bob needed to do something! He swallowed a little, the treat sweet and tasty, but it slid down his intake like sludge. Sunstreaker needed him. That mech was about to touch him!

Bob gagged a little as the treat got stuck, and went with it.

“Oh dear. Sunstreaker?” Rung called as Bob gagged and coughed.

Yes! Perfect. His master hurried over, ignoring the greeting from Maybe Tasty. Bob was absolutely going to bite him the first chance he got. He was wasting a really good treat to save his master from him. Mech probably wasn’t even tasty, certainly not as nice as the treat Rung had given him.

Bob hacked again.

“Not in my bar! Not in my bar!” Swerve cried, but it was too late.

“Gross, Bob,” Sunstreaker said.

Bob looked up and whined, antennae drooping. He was sorry. Kind of.

“He seemed to startle right after I gave him a treat,” Rung explained. “Someone shouted and he whipped around.” He patted Bob’s back, energy field concerned, but pushing comfort as well.

Sunstreaker shook his helm. “Poor bug. You ok, boy?”

Bob whimpered as the base of an antenna was rubbed.

“Ok, come on. Let’s go clean you up.” Sunstreaker attached the tow cable, and Bob scuttled toward the door without having to be asked again, belly so low it almost scraped the ground.

“My floor!” Swerve whined.

~ | ~

“Ok, Bob. Hop in.” Sunstreaker motioned toward the tub he had just finished filling.

Bob sat, helm tipped as he stared up at his master. Sure the tub had those great bubbles, but something was missing.

Sunstreaker planted his hands on his hips. “Tub. Now.”

Bob snorted.

“Spoiled brat,” Sunstreaker muttered, but he was smiling as he pulled Bob’s bath toy into view. “This what you want?”

Bob’s aft scraped the floor with an excited wriggle as the toy was squeaked.

“Is this it? Is this what you want?”

The toy squeaked again, and Bob pranced in place, whole body waggling. He wanted it! Throw it! _Throw it_!

 _Squeak_!

“Get it!” Sunstreaker threw the toy into the tub, and it disappeared into the fluffy white foam with a _plop_ and splash.

Bob dove in after it to the sound of Sunstreaker’s echoing laughter. He pounced and splashed, the smaller set of hands groping through the bubbles as he searched for the runaway toy. Maybe he could see it? _Sploosh_ went Bob under the water, and yes! There it was!

He burst to the surface and snapped after where the toy had been floating.

“Remind me to thank Hound for the bubble bath idea,” Sunstreaker said, voice raised to be heard over Bob’s splashing.

Hound. Oh, the green mech that smelled funny but was so nice. Sure. Wait what?

Bob paused for a moment and looked at Sunstreaker.

“Daffy bug.”

In reply, Bob flicked his antennae at his master then dove after the toy again. He popped up with it in his mouth, rather surprised that it was there. He’d expected it to run more. Oh well.

The toy was cast out of the tub, and Bob attacked the bubbles as Sunstreaker laughed.

“Marinade good, Bob. I’m going to- Huh.”

Bob paused the Great Bubble Massacre, and turned toward his master as he suddenly fell quiet. Sunstreaker had a polishing cloth in his hand, his legs stretched out from where he sat on the bench, and was inspecting himself.

Sunstreaker stood, twisting this way and that. “How-?” He was frowning in confusion as he sat back down, but then his optics lifted to Bob.

Bob wiggled a bit, dropping to his belly in the tub, antennae arcing forward and wobbling. See what a good boy he was? He’d done a good job of protecting his master from those other mechs that kept touching him and smearing his finish.

Sunstreaker’s gaze moved from Bob to his plating and back to Bob, optics widening. “You glitchy little slagger.” He huffed a soft laugh and shook his helm, then laughed a little harder.

Chirring, Bob climbed out of the tub and plopped himself right at Sunstreaker’s feet with a happy churr.

“Good boy, Bob.” Another helpless laugh accompanied a pat to Bob’s head. “Good boy.”


	2. A Game of Forgiveness Fetch

This particular lounge was Fortress Maximus’ favorite. It was comfortable and quiet, and very few mechs ever came here. The bonus was that the oversized couches were just right for him to curl up on and read a good book file. Mechs would come and go, their soft murmurs nothing but background music, and none of them loud at all. None disturbing the serene peace of the lounge.

Fort Max was so engrossed in the story that the new arrivals barely registered, not even when one settled close to him.

At least, not until a startlingly loud _clank_ sounded.

Jumping, optics wide, Fort Max stared down at Bob. The insecticon gave him a soft churr, antennae waving and aft beginning to wriggle side to side. One large, clawed… hand? paw? reached out and nudged a pipe. It rang a little against the decking as it rolled closer to the couch.

On another sofa under a view port, Sunstreaker sat with a larger datapad and stylus in his lap. He met Fort Max’s optics, then glanced down at Bob as another trill of sound escaped the insecticon, then went back to his sketch.

Well then.

Fort Max felt his spark speed up a bit. Bob was so little, and so _very_ important to Sunstreaker. He couldn’t shake the guilt of crushing Bob’s foot, and here the tiny bug was, wanting to play with him.

“He forgave you before we even got out of the training room. Know that, right?” Sunstreaker said.

Fort Max hesitated, hand hovering somewhere between pulling back and finishing his reach for the pipe.

“Might as well just get it over with and forgive yourself. He’ll just sit there being cute until you cave anyways.”

As if to prove his master right, Bob’s four optics blinked, helm tilting to the side just a little. Antennae wobbled and his aft scraped the floor with an enthusiastic rhythm.

Forgive himself?

Fort Max picked up the pipe. “Not much room in here.”

“Long hall right through that arch.” Sunstreaker pointed with the end of his stylus without even looking up, and Bob twisted and bounded a few steps toward it before turning back to chirp at Fort Max.

Smiling slightly, Fort Max stood and followed Bob into the corridor. Checking to be sure no one was around, he winged the pipe as far as he dared, laughing as a _very_ exuberant bug thundered after it.


End file.
